


Fragile as a Flower

by TheLonelyJournalKeeper



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Prince of Perils
Genre: Backstory, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Baggage, Festivals, Gen, Growing Up, Isolation, Princes & Princesses, Protective Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyJournalKeeper/pseuds/TheLonelyJournalKeeper
Summary: Princess Petaline Drake has always wanted to attend the annual Flower Festival, but she's never been allowed to. This year, she decides to take matters into her own hands.





	Fragile as a Flower

**Author's Note:**

> Look at you, as fragile as a flower  
Still a little sapling, just a sprout  
You know why we stay up in this tower
> 
> I know but...
> 
> That's right, to keep you safe and sound, dear

The Flower Festival takes place every spring on Alyssum, in celebration of the greenhouses being in full bloom, and for as long as she can remember, Princess Petaline Drake has asked to go. And every year, she has been told no.  _ You’re not old enough. It wouldn’t be safe. The festival is no place for a princess. You already made an appearance. You wouldn’t like it anyway. I’m not feeling up to it, maybe next year. We can’t spare a guard to look after you.  _

But now Petaline is fourteen, and today is the day of the Flower Festival. The greenhouses are in full bloom. The scent of roses and sweet alyssum is thick in the air. Down in the square and on the streets, the festivities are in full swing. Local merchants have set up stalls all along the street, selling food and drink and crafts and clothing. Musicians are playing in the square, and children are racing and dancing and giggling. 

A few hours ago, Petaline had been down in the square with her parents, making their annual appearance at the festival. Her father had spoken briefly to commence the festivities, talking about the importance of the greenhouses to the survival of Alyssum and wishing everyone a good time. It was the same thing every year, and it was as close as Petaline had ever gotten to attending the festival herself. 

Now she sits in her room, watching the dome slowly dim to imitate nightfall and the lanterns turn on. She can hardly contain her excitement or her nervousness as she waits. Finally, once it’s fully dark, she stands up and hurries to her dresser. She can’t exactly go as she is after all. She would stick out like a sore thumb in her gauzy pink gown. Instead, she pulls out the white shift dress she wears under her armor during paladin training and puts it on. She leaves her tiara behind and threads her hair with pink ribbon instead. Then she’s all ready to go. 

She doesn’t encounter anyone as she leaves through the side entrance to the palace.  _ Most of the guards must have the night off for the festival, _ she thinks, and her heart soars. She quickens her pace as she makes her way into the streets and into the thick of the festivities. She can hear the music from a ways off, and it makes her feet move faster, a spring entering her step. 

To her relief, no one pays her any mind as she nears the festival goers. Alyssum is primarily populated by the small races, so Petaline doesn’t stand out at all among the other halflings, and the dwarves, and the gnomes. After the small races, humans are the largest demographic so she isn’t surprised to see a few humans standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. All of them are laughing and talking and smiling, and Petaline shakes off her nervousness as she plunges deeper into the festival. 

The trees and shrubs that line the streets are in full bloom, covered in blossoms ranging from white to purple to pink. Vendors are selling wreaths and bouquets and garlands, and more than a few people are wearing crowns woven from flowers in every shade imaginable. They look so beautiful Petaline casts her eyes about for the vendor selling them and immediately runs over to her, her small feet clattering on the cobblestones of Alyssum’s streets. 

The vendor is an elderly dwarf woman with pink blossoms in her beard, dressed in a light purple gown and a garland of white flowers draped over her shoulders. On the table in front of her are flower crowns of every imaginable size and color. Petaline goes starry-eyed when she sees them. 

“Hello there,” the woman says. “Happy Flower Festival!” 

“Oh, hello,” Petaline says quietly. She smiles at the woman and looks down at the crowns decorating the table. 

“See anything you like?” the vendor asks kindly. 

Petaline looks up at her and nods quickly. “Um, how much for that one?” She points at a small crown woven from pale pink roses and sprinkled with baby’s breath. 

The woman looks her over. “Five gold,” she says. 

“Oh!” Petaline says. She had expected much more. She plucks five gold pieces from her pocket and sets them on the table. The vendor scoops them up and puts them in her box. She smiles at Petaline. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Petaline smiles and nods. “Thank you.” She takes her flower crown and sets it on her head before turning away from the woman and heading off down the street. She is in search of the music. She can hear it coming from the square, and she follows the sound deeper into the city until she arrives at her destination. 

The square is packed with people and hung up with chains of lights and flowers. Petaline gasps with delight. The source of the music is a quintet of bards playing string instruments. A halfling man plays the fiddle, a grin on his face. A gnome woman saws at her violin, her eyes closed in concentration, while another gnome picks up the melody on his viola. A dwarf cheerfully plays a harmony on their cello, and a human accompanies them on her bass. The resulting music is so joyful that Petaline has no doubt they must be bards. It makes her feel like dancing, and Petaline doesn’t usually dance except at balls. 

More than a few people have had the same idea. A ring of small children are jumping up and down in front of the musicians, laughing and shrieking. A few grownups are dancing too, mostly in pairs. A young gnome woman sighs dreamily in the arms of her wife. Petaline can see their matching rings. 

But most of the dancers aren’t young children or married couples. With the advent of darkness, groups of teenagers have emerged onto the square, kids Petaline’s age or older. Their dances are very different from the wild galloping of the little kids or the slow embraces of the grown-ups. Theirs are playful and carefree. Some of the teenagers dance in pairs, but others dance in groups. Three girls, not much older than Petaline, dance in a circle, their skirts a whirl of color as they spin and leap. A boy and a girl clasp hands, stomp their feet, run and turn in time to the music. They’re grinning at each other, their faces glowing with excitement. A halfling boy dances side by side with a gnome boy, synchronizing their movements to the beat. 

Petaline desperately wants to be a part of it, but she isn’t sure if she’s invited. She doesn’t know these kids, and she doesn’t know their dances. Still, this may be her only chance so she makes her way over to them. 

Most of them don’t even notice her approach, for which she is grateful, but one of the girls, a gnome, stops her dancing to look at Petaline, and her heart leaps up into her throat until the girl smiles and waves her over. It is only years of comportment and paladin training that prevent Petaline from tripping over her own feet as she rushes over to where the gnome girl is dancing with her friends.

“Do you want to join us?” she asks, and Petaline nods eagerly. “Yes please.” 

The gnome girl makes room for Petaline to join their circle, and the princess falls into step, trying to mimic the movements of the other girls. Petaline has only ever danced ballroom dances before, but she’s a quick learner, and her dexterity stat is high. After a few turns, she’s found her rhythm and is dancing giddily. She can’t believe she’s really doing this. Her heart is racing, but it’s the good kind of racing. She laughs in sheer delight.

She doesn’t know how long this goes on for, but after a while, the music swells and the dancers jump and leap, then it all goes silent as the bards finish their song, and then the assembled crowd bursts into thunderous applause as the musicians set aside their instruments to bow. 

“Is that the end?” Petaline says softly. 

“Nah, they’re just taking a break,” says one of the girls. Petaline startles—she hadn’t expected a reply. 

“Let’s go get drinks,” the gnome girl suggests. She heads off towards one of the vendors, expecting her friends to follow her, and they do. She glances back at Petaline who doesn’t know whether to stay or go and says, “You can come too if you want.” 

Petaline heaves a sigh of relief and follows after, admiring the easy way the gnome girl has of moving through the world. She knows who she is and what she’s doing. Petaline wishes she felt the same. 

The gnome girl leads the way to a vendor selling lemonade, and Petaline glances around the square as they walk, struggling to take it all in. She wants to remember every detail in case she can’t go again next year. Then her eyes hone in on someone in the crowd, and she freezes. 

It’s a palace guard in full uniform, and judging from the way his eyes are scanning the crowd, he’s looking for someone. Petaline suddenly feels sick to her stomach. “I have to go,” she whispers and turns on her heel. 

She runs off back the way she came. Her plan is to retrace her steps and make her way back inside the palace before anyone notices she’s gone, but it doesn’t work out like that. She rounds a corner and runs smack into a pair of guards whose eyes widen when they see her. 

White hot terror courses through her veins, and she bolts, but one of the guards sees her and shouts, “Halt!” 

Petaline screeches to a stop, heart beating frantically against her ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. 

The guards race over to her and stand on either side. They’re a dwarf and a human respectively, and they’re both much bigger than she is. “Your Highness!” one of them says. “We’re under strict orders from the King and Queen to find you and return you home! You aren’t supposed to be out on your own!” 

“I don’t want to go home,” Petaline whispers, but the guards leave her no choice, planting themselves on either side of her and shepherding her back to the palace. They escort her through the gates, past the throne room, and into a side chamber where her parents often receive guests. They’re waiting for her there, both of them, and Petaline feels icy cold dread settle in the pit of her stomach. 

Her mother doesn’t even wait for the guards to leave before she begins. “You could have been killed! What were you thinking?!” Petaline doesn’t have an answer to that, but it doesn’t matter because her mother doesn’t give her time to reply before she barrels onwards. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?! I’ve never been so afraid in my life!” 

Her mother continues in this vein for some time, and Petaline trembles, looking down at the floor and trying not to cry. 

“I’m so disappointed in you! I thought we’d raised you better than this. This is a serious breach of the boundaries we have set! Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” 

“I’m s-sorry,” Petaline whispers, her voice breaking. “I-I didn’t…” 

“You betrayed our trust! Clearly, we’ve been far too lenient with you. We’ve given you too much freedom. We’re going to have to make some changes moving forward.” 

Petaline starts to cry, her small shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She wants to collapse to her knees and sob, but she knows that will only make things worse for her. Throwing tantrums isn’t ladylike. “I-I didn’t mean to,” she weeps. “I just wanted to see the festival for m-myself because you w-wouldn’t let me go.” 

“We wouldn’t let you go for good reason!” her mother cries. “You’re just a child! It’s far too dangerous for you to go out on your own!” 

Petaline’s whole body shakes violently because her mother has just given voice to her own worst fears—that she is foolish and naive and helpless. That she isn’t and never will be like the gnome girl in the square who was confident and friendly and sure of her place in the world. “I’m sorry,” she says again. She just wants it to be over now. She can’t stand another moment of this. 

Her father speaks for the first time. “This is a very serious mistake you’ve made, Petaline.” His disappointment sends Petaline into fresh tears. “We need time to talk this over. Your mother is very upset. Go to your room.” 

Petaline nods hurriedly, her eyes filled with tears, and flees the room on shaky legs. She makes her way back to her room mostly by memory and throws herself down on her bed, sobbing. She wraps herself in the covers of her bed, and it’s at this moment she realizes she’s still dressed for the festival. She unlaces her shoes and sheds her shift dress for a nightgown and it’s then she remembers the flower crown she bought. She pulls it from her hair and holds it in her trembling hands for a moment, looking at it and sobbing, before she throws it against the wall with a cry. 

“Stupid!” she moans. “What was I thinking?” The flower crown falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, and Petaline turns away from it, curling in on herself beneath the covers of her bed. After a few moments, her sobs die down to sniffles, but it’s a long time before she falls asleep. 

The next day, she finds out about the “changes” her parents have decided to make. A guard is stationed outside her chamber door. There are to be no more nighttime escapades for Petaline Drake. She is confined solely to the palace. 

* * *

Petaline stands in Dr. Jolnos’ office. She is tired from a late night and afraid for the life of her friend. 

Brioche Chantilly stands before her, and he is scolding her. “What were you doing out so late?” 

She shrinks in on herself. She hangs her head, looking demurely down on the floor. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Normal and I went to find Cordelia. I’m sorry if I worried you.” 

“Well, okay,” Brioche says. “Don’t let it happen again.” 

Jolnos casts Brioche a strange look then turns to her. “Petaline, sweetie, how old are you?” 

Her cheeks grow hot as she answers. “I-I just turned twenty a few months ago.” 

Jolnos purses his lips in a way that suggests that doesn’t answer his question, but he doesn’t press the issue. Petaline is glad of it. She doesn’t have time to linger on her naivete or her immaturity. She has to save Cordelia. And after that, she has to save Nex. Everything else can wait. 


End file.
